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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286627">Transformation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale'>DixieDale</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The (Mis)Adventures of Countess Liliann Moreau [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Girl from U.N.C.L.E., The Man From U.N.C.L.E.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Halloween, Supernatural Elements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:27:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,586</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286627</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>April Dancer's Halloween party was becoming quite the tradition, something no one at UNCLE Headquarters wanted to miss.  People drew lots in each department to decide who would have to stay behind to cover essential business and who would get to attend the party.  Ideas for costumes were eagerly discussed in the hallway; several individuals went on crash diets to provide breathing space for the lavish buffet she provided.  The one person who dreaded the night?  Mark Slate, April's partner.  But he stuck it out; if she had to have the bloody thing, he'd stand beside her til the bitter end.  If he could do that under a Thrush attack, surely he could do it for a Halloween party.  Still, in the far reaches of his mind, was the never-ending hope that this would be the last year for it, that she'd decide on some other time of year to throw her party.  He didn't hold out a lot of hope; that would have involved a change of attitude, a transformation far beyond anything he could see happening.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The (Mis)Adventures of Countess Liliann Moreau [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologues</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prologue 1 - April Dancer:</p><p>The first year Mark had laughed, but been moderately enthusiastic.  However, with each subsequent year, his laugh had become more strained, til finally it ceased to appear at all.  Well, the same was true with his enthusiasm, and it had disappeared far more quickly than that indulgent laugh.</p><p>Last year, even she had begun to have a twinge of doubt, after her lovely party had turned into something described in various memorable terms, all of which made her wince.  Well, one hardly wanted to be remembered as the Hostess for 'that ORGY at Rovington House', though she supposed that was slightly better than 'a disgusting wallow of beastiality and depravity' which she'd heard from one irate female, Head of UNCLE's Wardrobe Department.  No, she really didn't think that would look good on her imaginary 'hostessing resume'.</p><p>This year had started out so promising.  Mark had been bullied and guilted into not only acting as co-host, but actually putting a full out effort into making the evening a success.  A last minute delivery had necessitated an equally last minute change of costume for both Mark and herself, but all else looked in place for a lovely successful party.</p><p>She was SURE Mark would see things differently after tonight.  She was absolutely, positively, sure!</p><p> </p><p>Prologue 2 - Countess Liliann Moreau:</p><p>True love.  The real thing was quite rare, in Countess Moreau's opinion, no matter how some mistook other qualities for that illusive one.  Many longed for it, searched endlessly for it - called it a blessing.  Others, especially those who bore the name of Moreau, called it a curse - a curse interwoven with another curse laid upon their kind many centuries before.  For to be of the Moreau was to be a predator, a blood-seeker, a nightrider, and the only one true and sure defense against such creatures was that illusive thing, 'true love'.   Is it a wonder they scorned it?</p><p>If you had asked the Countess Liliann Moreau, at any time since her first hunt, sometime perhaps in the 1100's or so, she would have been vehement in her displeasure that such a thing even existed, no matter how rare it might be.  </p><p>If you asked her in the 1940's, you would have found her vocally appalled at the extent to which that condition, that disease had spread, forming connections between the most unlikely individuals.  </p><p>The same question posed to her perhaps some twenty-five or so years later?   She might have been honest enough to admit the truth - that true love has many faces, some of them sweeter than others.  Some sweet enough even to temper the nature of a Moreau.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Rome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Madame Giselle sighed as she removed her glasses and wearily rubbed the bridge of her nose.  It had been a long, frustrating, highly-troubling day for a woman no longer young - a day made even longer and more frustrating by her beloved, but sometimes less-than-reliable nephew Lui.  Lui was almost fifty now, although his child-like face and slender build made him look much younger and his eyes even younger still, and had lived with her since her sister, Lui's mother, had died when Lui was only ten.  Giselle loved the boy, truly she did, but how he could complicate things!!!</p><p>There were so many positive things about the boy (for, no matter his years, she was unable to think of him as anything other than a boy.).  </p><p>He was kind-hearted and generous in nature, welcoming of everyone he met, ever eager to help her in her shop and around their small flat.  He was patient and painstaking about any task she put him to, wouldn't stop even to get a drink or rest unless she reminded him.  He had an extraordinary eye for color, could match the crystals she used on dresses and costumes, sorting them into their individual cups with a skill her older eyes could not have equalled.  No, probably could not have, even in her youth, so keen was his eye for tint and shade.  He could spot a flaw in a piece of jewelry, a raw gem, to such perfection that even Babol, the gem dealer in the shop next door, would bring certain items to him to gauge their perfection or lack thereof.</p><p>Even the most tedious of tasks did not cause Lui to lose his smile; he would just nod and settle down and continue on until he was finished.  That is when he would reappear, nodding happily, and offer his usual, "Tia?  Completato, Tia," and she would know the job was done, and she either needed to sit him down with a snack, or find something else for him to put his hand to.</p><p>For that WAS necessary.  One did not leave Lui without a task, whether it was the task of drinking his coffee and eating a snack, or the task of sweeping the floor, or perhaps even the task of taking a nap.  To leave Lui without a task was inviting disaster, for if he was not GIVEN a task, Lui would search until he found one of his own, and that was - unfortunate.  Always unfortunate.</p><p>Today was the perfect example.  Madame Giselle had become involved with that customer, the demanding wife of a local politician, and left Lui unsupervised for far too long.  Finally hearing the bell indicating the customer had swept away, having finally browbeaten Madame into reducing the price of that new gown to her satisfaction, Giselle had sighed in relief and satisfaction.  Yes, she knew the woman from old, knew what she was like, had been prepared.  She had started off quoting a price to the woman that was so high that, even after all that badgering, the final price agreed upon was still higher than what Giselle would have sold the dress for to anyone else.  A long session, but well worth it.</p><p>At least that was what she had thought, til Lui appeared, his face just as satisfied as Giselle felt.  "Tia.  Completato, Tia.  Tutti e due."</p><p>Giselle felt herself go cold.  Both?  He had completed BOTH.  Both of what?  She had put him to work grading skeins of silk thread - one task.  What did he mean, BOTH?</p><p>When she hurried to check the shop, the only thing she could find different was that the stack of outgoing parcels, along with the stack of accompanying labels, and the envelopes with correct postage were all gone.  Yes, she had intended to get them ready, send them on their way today, but that customer had delayed her past time.  Had Lui . . .?  Well, no one else could have tampered with those parcels, of course.   </p><p>She sent up a quick prayer that he had taken them in the right order, the way she'd had them placed - top parcel to be matched to top mailing label, to be affixed with the postage in the top envelope.  He was usually precise in his actions; surely he had!  </p><p>Five parcels, five customers - three costumes, two fine dresses, one dress so elaborate that it could easily be mistaken for a costume.  With that odd holiday approaching, that Halloween, her primary custom of fine dresses had shifted to more the business of providing costumes made to order.  Her reputation had spread far beyond this city, even the country in which they lived, and her clientel was equally wide-spread.</p><p>She closed her eyes, whispering to herself, "the mermaid costume for Mlle. Claudette; the pixie costume for Signorina Fannelli; that cloth of gold ball gown for Sir Winston, in his own size, if you please, not his wife's!; the Little Red Riding Hood costume.  Thankfully, for that one, the new client, a Miss April Dancer of New York City, sent an illustration along with her request!"</p><p>But by far the most expensive of the lot had been a midnight blue satin, brocade, and ermine gown of medieval design for the Countess Liliann Moreau, complete with an elaborate headdress of the same period, adorned with, not crystals, but fine gems provided by the Countess in the same packet as the order, illustration, and specifications.</p><p>{"Please, please, let him have gotten them right,"} she pleaded.  </p><p>While all customers were important, of course, she cringed to think of the Countess receiving the wrong package.  More, even, to think of something belonging to that particular customer being delivered into other hands.  If the others were expensive, that gown and headdress were fabulously expensive, due to those precious gems in addition to the remarkable fabrics and fur that had been used.  That gown, that headdress, were probably worth more than her shop and its contents, plus all the other shops in a several block radius, including the gem dealer and rare stamp dealer, the antique dealer and everyone else - would be worth even added together.</p><p>When she lifted her eyes several days later to meet the steely pale silver blue eyes of the Countess Moreau, that red hooded cloak dangling from long pale red tipped fingers, she knew her prayers had been in vain.  The icy words from that blood-red mouth only confirmed that.  </p><p>"Do I LOOK like a Little Red Riding Hood to you, Madame Giselle?  Really?  I see myself far more as a hungry wolf, particularly this morning."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Prologues</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mark Slate groaned silently to himself.  "April, I really don't think . . ."</p><p>"Now, Darling, don't be tiresome!  It's not as if I'm not giving you a choice!  Now which will it be?"</p><p>He looked at the two costumes laid out on the bed in April's flat.  The one on the left was an odd costume with maybe a Tyrolean origin, though perhaps not.  It really was hard to tell; the only thing he could tell for sure was that it consisted of loose murky green coarse cotton  pants and a nearly shapeless overshirt of muddy brown.  Oh, and that it was highly unattractive; THAT much was quite clear. The hat, complete with a battered band adorned with a trio of molting feathers, was even more grotesque than the shapeless wool one he wore so often on assignment.  (He hated that damned thing, but it held such a lively variety of handy tools and was apparently indestructible, so he wore it anyway.)  </p><p>This particularly uncharming costume was accompanied by a large ax - not a real one, but a fascimile of some far lighter material.  Not his cup of tea, really, though an ax, a real one, might have been handy to slit his wrists on.  He was seriously considering that at the moment.</p><p>Of course, compared to the costume on the right, 'Ax Man', or as April had explained, 'The Heroic Woodsman', was probably a better choice.  Than the other costume, that is - the slitting of his wrists was still a more attractive option than either to his mind.</p><p>"I wouldn't be surprised if you don't have to have the place sprayed, April-luv.  Are you sure that thing doesn't have fleas?" he protested.</p><p>Well, it seemed a good possibility to him!  From the long sweeping furry tail to the pointed ears and just as pointed muzzle, the wolf costume certainly would have provided the right environment for an entire flock of fleas - or whatever masses of fleas were inclined to call themselves.</p><p>"I'm surprised you didn't include a 'Kindly Grandmother' costume to round out the lot," he muttered giving her a less than kindly look.  "I'm sure I would have looked a right treat in THAT!"  {"Though probably better than in either of the other two!"}</p><p>She laughed indulgently, though with an appreciative, if rather sly, look.  "Now, Mark, you know I wouldn't have done that to my very own partner.  Besides, the only 'Kindly Grandmother' costume Marcella had in stock had been returned with a tear in the bodice and she was already fretting about getting it repaired in time to use it as the base for her 'Mrs. Claus' costume in December."</p><p>"I don't see why I can't use the one I wore last year," he insisted, knowing it was a forlorn hope.  The only person he knew more stubborn than his partner was Illya Kuryakin, Napoleon Solo's partner, but still, he just couldn't see himself as either a Woodsman or a Wolf.  </p><p>Frankly, he was hoping against hope for a spur of the moment, last minute assignment from Mr. Waverly, but considering how the Old Man seemed to enjoy April's Halloween parties, and how much manipulation of the scheduling the man controlled, Mark knew his chances for a reprieve were slight at best.  Besides, sometimes he really had to wonder about some of the assignments Waverly sent him on, especially the ones he went on without April.  Dicey, those usually turned out to be, dicey to say the least.</p><p>The buzzer sounded, and April hurried into the living room to answer the call.</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"Package just arrived for you, Miss Dancer, from Italy, it says.  Shall I bring it up?  There's postage due, I'm afraid.  I paid it out of the Petty Cash Fund and marked it down on your record," Jack relayed in the tinny voice representative of systems of that nature.</p><p>"Yes, please, Jack, and thank you so, so much!  It must be my own costume!  I've been waiting for it!" April said enthusiastially.  </p><p>"You'll see, Mark.  It really can't be the Sea Captain for you, as lovely as that costume is and how well it suits you.  Oh, I know you think you look quite dashing in it, and I admit you do.  I also know WHY you want to wear it!  You think you'll catch the eye of that new girl in Translation, Melanie or Melissa or whatever her name is.  </p><p>"Well, you can forget about it, on all counts!  You KNOW I specified to everyone that MATCHING costumes were required this year - at least, coordinating ones, for everyone attending as a couple.  Well, we may not be a couple in THAT way, still, I've elected you as my next-closest-thing for the purposes of this party.</p><p>"And since I've designated you co-host - and do NOT think to argue - you won't have time to be chatting up any pretty girls!  You are going to be concentrating on making sure everything runs smoothly, and that everyone has a good time, and that includes the guys AND the women who DON'T usually meet your discriminating dating tastes!  </p><p>"You OWE me, you wretch, for that disaster last year!  You are going to SEE how difficult it is to pull one of these off properly, and learn your lesson about playing games with my plans!"</p><p>Now, Mark didn't think that was in the least fair.  It wasn't as if he'd PLANNED for her Halloween party to turn into an orgy last year!  In fact, he still wasn't sure just why it had happened, though he did have his suspicions about Theodora's possible involvement.  He SURELY had to have been mistaken in thinking he'd spotted that Lucy Bell woman there!</p><p>He waited, glumly debating the pros and cons of Woodsman versus Wolf, finding, to his dismay, everything was totalling up on the 'cons' side of the ledger, the 'pros' side starkly blank.  That ax blade was looking more and more attractive all the time.</p><p>April's indignant voice distracted him, with that shrill "What?  The card inside says 'Midnight'. What kind of a costume is called 'Midnight'?  Well, it's certainly not what I ordered!  This was supposed to be a Little Red Riding Hood costume."</p><p>Mark nodded in grim resignation.  Well, at least he now had confirmation of his lucky guess about the significance of the Wolf and the Woodsman costumes.  </p><p>"When Roberto made me promise to send some business in the direction of that old friend of his, I certainly expected some degree of professionalism!  I mean, I really could have gotten what I wanted from Marcella, instead of ordering all the way from Rome!  Mark, can you believe . . . ".   </p><p>Her voice trailed off, and there was silence.  When she spoke again, as he was coming to the door to see what the problem was, it was with an increasing level of awe and excitement.  Now her voice was almost in a squeal, "Mark!  Come look!  Oh, there you are!  Have you ever SEEN anything so luscious in your entire life??!"</p><p>Mark looked in the large box, seeing a confusion of midnight blue fabric, narrow trimmings of deep brown fur, almost but not quite black in tone, the sparkle of jewels.  "Certainly a better grade of fur than what's laying in there on your bed, I must say.  Probably don't have to worry so much about fleas, anyway."</p><p>"Oh, Mark, don't be so . . . ."  Her voice trailed off as she swept the mass out of the box and spread it across the couch.  "It is utterly glorious," her voice now at a whisper.   "I know the owner of the shop said she wasn't sure she could get the Red Riding Hood one together in time,  I don't think she even understood what it might consist of, had me send a picture when I sent the payment.  I remember she warned me that she might have to substitute something else, though I couldn't imagine that, not once she saw how truly simple it was.  But this????!  How could she bear to part with this?  Is there an invoice in there, Mark?  This must cost a dozen times what I paid, at least, probably far, far more!  I'll NEVER be able to afford this!"</p><p>Seeing there was something else in the tissue filled box, though far too big to be an invoice, of course, Mark poked at it cautiously.  </p><p>"No invoice, luv, but . . . What is this thing?" he wondered as he pulled it out, held it up for a better look.  Then he winced as April's voice DID reach the definition of a squeal, loud and piercing.</p><p>"Please, luv!  You're going to have the police down on us if you keep making that noise!  Sounds like I'm pulling out your toenails or something!"</p><p>She was ignoring him totally, snatching that oddly-shaped mass of material and velvet cording and sparkling jewels and whirled to the mirror to place it on her head, tucking her hair up underneath.  "A headdress!  A medieval headdress, and one perfectly matched to the gown.  Oh, how lovely!"</p><p>Mark looked at her with a bewildered frown, then shrugged his shoulders, focusing on the one bright spot that had perhaps just arrived on his horizon.  </p><p>"Does this mean I don't have to wear either of those costumes in there on the bed?" he asked hopefully.</p><p>"Well, of course you won't!  You can't!  Though, your Sea Captain outfit won't work either.  Let's see, what would go well with a medieval lady of the royal court?   Hmmmmmmm."</p><p>Mark cringed at what she might come up with.  The only things that immediately came to mind was a Court Jester with one of those ridiculous hats with the bells, and tights and pointy shoes {"can forget about chatting up the ladies in THAT!"}, or maybe a Knight in all that heavy armor {"lord help me, I'll clank!"}, or {"oh, please, please NO!"}, a white unicorn!!  It was with a great deal of relief he heard her happy exclamation, "a Troubadour, of course!  A rather up-scale one, more of a cross between that and a Royal Courtier.  With a lute, perhaps, and a lute isn't all THAT different from a guitar; I'm sure you could manage quite nicely, Mark!  I'm sure the ladies will be quite overwhelmed!"</p><p>He nodded appreciatively.  {"Well, it's better than the other choices, anyway.  And I AM sure that wolf thing simply MUST have fleas!"}</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Rome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Madame was in a state of limp relief by the time the Countess left.  She really hadn't thought she would survive, her OR dear Lui.  Giselle had been supplying gowns for the Countess since she first took over the shop, had more than a good idea of what the woman truly was.  Sixty years had passed, and the woman looked no older than when they'd first met!</p>
<p>She had explained, stuttering over the words, begging the Countess not to be angry, that Lui had made an honest mistake, with no insult intended.  "He simply did not understand, he is not as you and I, please . . . "  </p>
<p>When the Countess had coldly demanded to "meet this Lui you speak of, the one who 'does not understand' not to make such mistakes," Madame wept inside, wanted to refuse, offer her own life to spare her nephew, but she knew she was not strong enough to refuse her visitor anything she might ask.  And, once she was gone, there was no one to care for Lui.  Would that indeed be any better?</p>
<p>Nothing could have surprised her more than to see the startled rush of understanding, then of rueful warmth in those silvery eyes when the Countess swept into the workroom, brought Lui under her chill inspection.</p>
<p>Lui had gasped at the sight of the beautiful Liliann standing there and had whispered in sheer awe, "are you a princess?  No, a queen!  Perhaps a fairy queen?  Do you have a magic wand?"</p>
<p>Receiving that small laugh and mistaking that shake of Liliann's head as a 'no' to his question rather than an acknowledgement that Lui would have indeed meant no harm, no insult, in his making of that mistake, he hurried to offer to remedy that situation.</p>
<p>"I could make you one, a wand, if you don't, a very pretty one, all sparkly, with a star at the end, or maybe a crystal dome?  And a crown for your hair.  You should have that also; I could make them match!  It is not fair that you don't have a wand and a crown!"</p>
<p>To Madame Giselle, it was - indeed, to any observer, it would have been - a totally incongruous sight, the lovely and ever-so-elegant woman in the blood-red lipstick and rich traveling costume, seated on a wooden bench in the workroom, sipping the strong coffee Madame had hesitantly offered, carefully listening and nodding as Lui earnestly sketched and explained how he envisioned that magic wand should look, all that he would pour into it for the beautiful lady, a wand more beautiful and more powerful than anyone had ever before seen or possessed.  And indeed, that detailed sketch of a crown, a glorious crown, did match - in beauty, in design and ornamentation.</p>
<p>Madame could not have known that Lilianne had borne a child, once, so many, many years ago, though she had never known who the father had been.  Sometimes she wondered if there truly had been one, or if the babe had not magically appeared out of nothingness.  Georgi had been one like this Lui, possessed of many virtues, including the capacity for selfless and unlimited love, but lacking in some things so necessary to survival.  She had loved Georgi, no matter any of that, loved him fiercely, protected him, kept him near her despite the difficulties that occasionally caused.  She had lost him under circumstances she still could not bear to dwell upon.  </p>
<p>Watching Lui, listening to him excitedly explain his plans, brought all of that back, and the outcome of that visit was far different than she'd intended when she'd opened that parcel to find a plain flower-sprigged cotton dress, white pinafore, and red wool cape with hood, instead of a magnificent gown embellished with jewels she had already embued with her own dark power.</p>
<p>A surprising interlude, yes, one that warmed her eyes and her spirit enough to protect at least somewhat those who, in their ignorance, annoyed her in her journey.  And that warmth she'd felt in that workshop stayed with her even as she continued toward her goal, that misdirected package.  </p>
<p>Oh, she wasn't happy that her lovely winter gown was now in the hands of some foolish American woman who could never begin to appreciate its beauty OR the special qualities enbued in those precious gems.  But neither was she thirsting for revenge for the imagined insult, Lui having softened her heart and her spirit enough to temper her response.  </p>
<p>Even if she found the impertinent Miss Dancer had actually dared to wear that gown, she no longer felt the need to destroy the woman for that offense.  Of course, the gown itself might take care of that; not everyone could be that close to that much dark power and be unaffected - if this woman was not strong, she might end up being absorbed into that dress, adding whatever essences she had to its power.  </p>
<p>No, the Countess would go, retrieve her gown, perhaps obtain a little amusement at whatever might ensue in the meantime.  Then, she would be returning to Rome.  There was something, a seed of an idea tickling at her mind, something more important than taking revenge on someone who was, in the end, a semi-innocent bystander.</p>
<p>For that, although they would never know about it, of course, there were those at that Halloween party, particularly April Dancer and Mark Slate, who should be sending up paeons of grateful thanks.  For it was that, the time with Lui, that kept April's Halloween party from turning into an utter bloodbath.  </p>
<p>Oh, it was bad enough, surely, at least for some, but at least there was no river of blood rushing down the front steps into the street.  One must be grateful for such small favors in life, especially when dealing with the Countess Liliann Moreau.  She might be the most benign of the four siblings, but that wasn't saying a great deal.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. New York City</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The doorman was a little surprised to find the elegant woman on the other end of the buzzer asking for Miss Dancer.  Well, everyone who KNEW Miss Dancer KNEW she'd not be home, not on Halloween night.  If her demanding boss didn't have her working, mean old codger that he was for pushing that pretty young thing so hard!, then she'd be off hosting that Halloween party she gave for her friends and fellow employees of that big place downtown she worked for.  But still, Miss Dancer hadn't said NOT to tell any callers where the party would be held, and he'd heard enough, seen enough to know.  </p>
<p>"Rovington House, Ma'm, at that big Halloween party of hers.  Should be a real blow-out.  Is every year, mostly costume parties.  Lots of good times, I bet!  You shoulda seen her when she left here, all excited, talking her friend Mark's ear off, him complaing about being stuck carrying her costume and his, along a whole bunch of other stuff she said she'd be needing."</p>
<p>"The address?  Well, I think so; if not, it's in the book, maybe.  No, here it is."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Countess Liliann stood outside the place, a large well-kept house, not a mansion but bigger than most large homes, certainly.  Windows were lit, at least the ones on the first two floors, music was coming from inside, the sound of voices, talking, laughing.</p>
<p>She had promised herself she would remain calm, and so she would, but she could feel the edge of annoyance creep higher.  "I suppose she decided she was free to wear my gown!  I cannot believe it will become her, not someone who thought to wear that foolish Little Red Riding Hood attire!  Still, that man did say she was pretty and young.  It might not be TOO discordant.  And she must be of a similar size or it would not fit well enough to wear.  Surely she had sense enough not to dare and have it altered!  Well, maybe it will not be so very out of place on her.  In fact," the woman laughed just a tiny chilling laugh, "she might find it bringing out quite a different part of her personality.  Or perhaps, a part of MY personality!"</p>
<p>For that was true, the dress had the ability, via the dark gems that adorned it, to bring to life the energy the Countess had imbued into them centuries before.  She had intended it to be sort of a back-up battery, should she get caught far away from appropriate nourishment.</p>
<p>It had taken herculean efforts over a period of a twelve-month, sacrifice of more blood (though not, technically, of lives) than would be needed to sustain the combined predators of an entire savage wilderness, to manage that task.  She remembered having to seal herself away in the castle for a full score of years afterwards, the performing of that task leaving her weak and defenseless against any who would seek to strike at her; she spent that seclusion designing the perfect gown on which to display those magical stones.</p>
<p>This was not the first dress to be so adorned, of course; fabric became worn, fur rubbed thin, and most important, styles could change in the most remarkable fashion century to century.  This was not even the most beautiful dress to ever display those jewels; that was the one she'd designed during her seclusion.  Of course, having twenty years, give or take a few months, to perfect every line, decide on every fraction of an inch of the trimming, the very place every stone would sit - that had allowed her to enjoy a masterful piece of beauty, and one that enhanced her power a hundred-fold and more.  </p>
<p>That dress, and the ones that followed, were now in a special cupboard at the castle, no longer of any use once the jewels were removed, except for drawing up sweet memories, but she would not willingly part with them.  Each time it became necessary to perform the ritual to remove the stones, refresh them for their next home, it made her a bit sad, but the sweet memories helped to temper that, enough it had become a ritual of renewal not only for the stones but for herself.</p>
<p>Her face hardened to think of another, especially a frail, human female, whether or not she was considered pretty and young, wearing that new creation she had spent such time in designing, had commissioned the making and the transferring of the jewels to Madame Giselle.  If it hadn't been for the memory of sweet Lui, his innocent and enthusiastic promise of making her a 'magic wand and crown to match', she might have gathered her jewels to her in a mighty burst of power.  Of course, the doing would have incinerated her dress and whoever was wearing it.  And, she admitted, most likely everyone else in this Rovington House.  No, she wouldn't go that far, and she DID intend to have her dress, her jewels back in her possession before the night was over.  But perhaps she would see how it looked on this Miss Dancer; that would be a novel experience, and those didn't come along too often.  It would be interesting to see how the woman coped with the remnants of personality that dwelt within the stones, how long it would be before THAT personality overwhelmed her own.  Yes, most interesting.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Rovington House</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"April?  Are you feeling quite the thing?" Mark asked his partner.  Maybe it was the lighting, but April had the oddest look on her face just then, one he couldn't quite define, but certainly not like her.  There had been a smile on her lips as she watched the couples mingling in the ballroom, but it was far from the one she'd been wearing earlier, that of a well-satisfied hostess who had, once again, pulled off a successful party.  There, in the last few minutes, had been satisfaction, yes, but a satisfaction laced with cruel intent, as if whatever was to come next would please HER, but certainly not the other participants.</p>
<p>"They look so small, don't they, Mark?" she murmured, her eyes cold as she surveyed her guests.  "Small, helpless, worthless even, except for what they hold within them.  Living their petty little lives, thinking they are so important.  I wonder sometimes . . ."</p>
<p>"You wonder what, April-luv?" his voice uneasy at that so uncharacteristic and unkind commentary.  April might be pragmatic, as anyone in their line of work had to be, but she was never unkind, not to anyone who had not set themselves up as the enemy.</p>
<p>"I wonder that we keep them around at all.  If it were not for the occasional sweetness they provide, I'm sure . . . ".</p>
<p>"April, come, sit for a bit.  I think you've let yourself get overheated," he insisted.  He wasn't sure how, the room was quite comfortable to him, and he wasn't sure how even if she had, it would cause her to talk in such an odd fashion, but this was getting, for lack of any better word, creepy.  </p>
<p>That tonight was October 31st flashed through his mind, and that did nothing to ease his mind.  Halloween was known for its odd happenings; he and his partner, others he knew and had known, could readily testify to that.  He decided perhaps he'd fetch Napoleon and Illya as backup, just in case.  </p>
<p>Mark glanced down at April's wrist, tried to feel comforted at the sight of her charm bracelet, that 'early warning system' her cousin Caeide had given her, and he was.  Until he remembered what another cousin, Charles, the one who provided Rovington House for April's annual party, had told them, and groaned.</p>
<p>"I doubt anything untoward would venture within, of course, but you should probably know - your bracelet will not operate inside, not the way you'd expect it to.  Too many of the Clan have been in and out over the years, I'm afraid.  Clan power negates Clan power, you see, and the bracelet will simply shut down to avoid burning itself out."</p>
<p>Now April's voice trailed off, and a puzzled frown transformed her face back to one he was far more familiar with, certainly more comfortable with.  Blinking rapidly, she touched the jeweled design on the front of her gown, rubbing her fingertips over the stones.  </p>
<p>"Mark, did you say something?" she asked.  "Is everything alright with the caterers?"</p>
<p>He hastened to answer her, ready smile on his face.  "Everything just as it should be.  I can't believe they managed to get every thing set up so quickly after getting caught in that traffic snarl.  I don't think anyone will even notice things are a bit off-schedule.  And that new pastry chef they're using is a genius.  I know Illya seems to think so; he was inspecting the goods most carefully - to the point of sampling one of each variety to, and I quote, "assure myself they are of the quality April would require".  Napoleon is refraining from doing any sampling, at least of the pastries directly, but I did catch him licking that whipped Chantilly creme off Illya's lips when the crew had their backs turned.  He seemed most satisfied as well, though I'm not sure just where to place the honor of that satisfaction," Mark laughed.  "I would have asked, but they both headed up the stairs, double-time.  I'll try to remember to ask later, if and when they reappear.  And, April, please don't mention any of that to the Catering Manager; best not give her a reason to guess where that spare jar of Chantilly creme disappeared to, or she'll be after our two friends with that clipboard of hers!"</p>
<p>His laugh faltered as some trick of the light darkened April's auburn hair to contain streaks of black, her eyes now appearing almost silver in the light from the sparkling sconces.  {"Perhaps it's not just April who needs to sit down for a bit.  Even better, maybe I need to go suss out Illya and Napoleon before they hie themselves off to one of the private rooms upstairs and lock the door behind them.  Something just feels wrong, though for the life of me I can't tell what."}</p>
<p>He started to do just that, nodding his apologies to a beautiful woman who was in his direct path.</p>
<p>The Countess brushed up against the young blond man, let the threads of her power assess the possibilities.  There were others there that tempted her, yes, but this one had seemed to be important to Miss Dancer, and there would be a certain satisfaction in selecting HIM to amuse her.  She'd gotten wiser, or at least more cautious, this century, enough not to surge forward, just in case that infuriating shield, that 'true-love' defense, should flare and burn her for being so bold.  Now she was glad of that caution, since the heat when she touched him, though invisible to the naked eye, was intense in its repulsion of her and her intentions.</p>
<p>Liliann's lips pursed in annoyance.  It would have been such a fitting payback for the young woman, to take one she seemed to hold in some degree of fondness, use him as only one of her bloodline could.  But it seemed not to be.</p>
<p>Then an idea flickered across her mind; not a particularly nice idea, for she had relatively few of those, but at least an interesting one.  </p>
<p>{"I wonder.  The dress is partly me, is making her partly me as well, at least for a time.  That 'true-love' shield, a shield her image seems to be fueling for him - will that shield defend him against HER, seeing she is now partly me?  Hmmmmmmm.  An interesting question.  Let's see what happens."}</p>
<p>She took a moment to whisper a few words, a brief laughing explanation to the young man's ear.  Just a quick "she plays at being me by wearing my gown.  Let's see how well she carries out the role, shall we?  Go, I think she's looking for you."</p>
<p>He blinked at her in confusion, wondering who she was.  He'd have thought he knew everyone invited tonight, but she was a stranger.  And what she was saying, all he got from that was something about a gown and April looking for him.</p>
<p>Liliann smiled at the odd look he was giving her.  She was content.  She'd told him enough, not that he would understand, not now, but later, later he would remember.  </p>
<p>She laughed to herself softly as he turned to seek out Miss Dancer, stand beside her while inquiring as to what she'd needed from him.  Liliann laughed again.  {"Just wait, be patient.  I'm sure she will be happy to show you what she needs."}</p>
<p>"Mark, let's go to the music room for a few minutes.  I think everything is going smoothly down here, and there's something I wanted to discuss with you," April suggested, and Mark, just finishing handing off that prize bottle of Scotch to the winner of the most imaginative costume contest, nodded in agreement.  He'd been kept busy since their arrival, wouldn't mind a bit of a break.</p>
<p>They moved into the darkened music room and he reached out to flip the light switch by the door while she closed that door for privacy.</p>
<p>He'd turned to better hear her words when she struck.  Lightning fast that had been, her head twisting toward him, teeth bared, hot intent in her eyes.  There was no time to move away, not before she buried her teeth in the curve where his shoulder met his neck.  His cry of shock and pain met her cry of frustration at that attack not yielding what she had been aiming for.  Flesh and blood she tasted, but not the deep sweet richness she KNEW should have been within her reach.</p>
<p>Well, the Countess thought as she observed from the shadows, that was understandable.  While the dress might direct the action, spark and fuel the need, the young woman simply did not have the fangs and underlying structure to draw the blood she had been after.  Oh, there was blood, yes, but not the sweet richness direct from the vein, what she had been longing for.  And the man was strong enough, even through his shock, to pull away before the delightful Miss Dancer could worry and rend his flesh enough to tear a mouthful away.  </p>
<p>{"What will come next, I wonder?  For me, it would be . . ."} and she smiled in acknowledgement of what was now taking place.  {"Yes, the dress does know my habits.  I wonder, does that mean I am becoming boring?  Too predictable?  I believe the term is 'getting in a rut'?"}.  That caused her to laugh softly at the inadvertent pun she'd just discovered, for it would appear it was most appropos.</p>
<p>Miss Dancer, using the extra strength the dress loaned her, along with the jewels directing the bands of fur into now performing their various functions, including the binding and positioning and various other interesting things learned through the centuries, now had her young man down on the floor, helpless to resist her.   </p>
<p>Whatever skills and inclinations the woman might ordinarily have, it was Liliann's skills and inclinations the dress imposed on her, Liliann's strength in her arms, her body.  If April Dancer was still there, it was only as a small compressed version, tucked away deep inside, perhaps beating her fists in fury and desperation, trying to release herself from the bonds that held HER.</p>
<p>Lilianne certainly saw no signs of Miss Dancer breaking free, saw no signs of the young woman at all in the frenzied activity now taking place on that richly patterned rug; it was as if there was no personality at all, only deeply-engrained habits the Countess recognized quite well.  She was fascinated, rather sorry she had never tried this as an experiment centuries ago - the placing of one of her gowns on someone else, to see the effect.  She stepped closer, close enough to hear the words, the sounds pouring from the two.  </p>
<p>{"It is interesting, really, almost like watching myself in action, but with the necessary detachment to be a true and reliable critic.  Such an opportunity to improve, to expand my own performance,"} the Countess thought with surprised delight.  </p>
<p>Any resentment of Miss Dancer's wearing her dress was gone in the wonder and excitement of this new experience.  And the discovery that she had somehow gained nourishment from all of that, the exchange, in all of its variety, that was most interesting as well.  </p>
<p>{"Not as much as if I myself had tasted his sweet blood, his flesh.  Not as much as if I had absorbed his sweet, hot essences.  But still, a surprising amount, considering."</p>
<p>In time, she stepped out of the shadows, had taken the young woman by the arm, pulled her away.  "Time to get dressed in your own clothes, my dear Miss Dancer.  Not as exciting perhaps, but more suitable.  Though you did surprisingly well, enough I am rather impressed."</p>
<p>Once in an empty room down the hall, she gently pushed the non-resisting April into a chair, noting the dazed look in those pretty eyes, saw the faint threads of April's own personality start to rise.  There was confusion, yes, but also anger, and something she couldn't quite define.  A building of power, perhaps, though a power she didn't . . .   Oh, wait, yes - she DID recognize that power; had tasted it before, in the form of a she-wolf, the form of a dragon, though this was far diluted, not nearly enough to counteract that of a nightrider, just enough to bring notice to itself.  </p>
<p>{"Still, it would perhaps be prudent to leave now.  After all, I have what I came for, plus some amusement and, surprisingly enough, some new self-knowledge to explore.  And I have other things to put my mind to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mark blinked, realized he was alone.  He pulled himself together, carefully, painfully getting up from the floor, but almost falling in the process.  He'd heard another voice, knew April was no longer in the room, knew he needed to find her, keep her safe.  </p>
<p>{"Yes, you were very successful with that before, weren't you, you bloody fool!"} he told himself bitterly.</p>
<p>Raising a trembling hand to his aching shoulder, then to his arm, wincing at the pain and the wet sticky evidence of blood, he made his way to the side of the room where a mirror pointed out the stark reality of the past interval of time.  </p>
<p>{"You look like the cover of one of those alternative porn mags, Mark old boy, the ones that like to feature a little blood, a few screams of agony, along with all the rest,"} he grimly admitted to himself.  {"Yes - it's all there, all right.  Ravaged, savaged, battered, barely escaped being devoured by a lusty and blood-hungry tiger-queen.  Maybe you should check out the publishers, see if they need a male model for their illustrations; could add a bit to your paycheck."}</p>
<p>He found her in the small sitting room two doors down.</p>
<p>"April?" Mark whispered, wondering at how still she sat in that darkened room.  "Are you alright, luv?" he asked softly, flipping the light switch, letting the sconces bring light to the scene.</p>
<p>April sat there staring into nothingness, appearing oddly young, fragile even, in that flower-sprigged dress, red woolen cloak around her shoulders, the hood laying in graceful folds at her neck.  That was the costume she'd originally intended to wear, he realized, or one just like it.  </p>
<p>"Mark?  Did you see her?  I didn't mean to steal her dress, really I didn't.  I didn't know, though I should have realized there had been a mistake, not put it on.  She was so - well, I'd say angry, but that's not really the word, not there at the end."</p>
<p>His partner's eyes showed her confusion, and he couldn't help but compare that with the expressions they had showed at different times during the evening.  As sad as he felt now, as much as he wanted to comfort her, he had to admit he deeply preferred this over some of what else he'd seen, and he felt certain April would have agreed.  </p>
<p>He shuddered, trying not to wince at the deep pain in his shoulder and neck.  The pain there, that was nothing compared to the pain in his heart, the pain, the shame.  With any luck April wouldn't remember any of that, any of what had happened between them.  </p>
<p>Still he knew it would be difficult to hide those two deep bites she'd given him, though that colorful silk sash he'd borrowed from the pile of discards below hid the blood on the tunic of his costume.  The sash was even somewhat authentic to his troubadour costume, enough perhaps April wouldn't question it, if she shook herself out of this odd state enough TO question it.  </p>
<p>No, he wasn't looking forward to her questions there.  Still, as long as she thought that was the extent of it, those deep teethmarks, he'd be content, especially if she didn't realize she was the one to have given him those bites.  </p>
<p>The rest, no, he didn't want her to remember any of that - especially since there had been no - well, for lack of a better word - affection in what had passed between them, not even honest passion, and he quailed to think of what words did apply.  </p>
<p>Oh, the words themselves didn't offend him; he had some experience in the darker byways of sexual activity as well as the brightly-lit highways, but he couldn't bear to think of his partner in those terms.  That wouldn't be something that appealed to her, (actually didn't much appeal to him either, not if he had a say in the matter), certainly not something he would want to introduce her to.  April deserved love - white silk, sweet words, gentle hands, and the chance to give in return all the warmth and sweetness that was within her.  </p>
<p>{"Give to someone ELSE,"} he firmly told himself.  He had his appointed role in her life; he was her partner, the one she trusted to have her back in all situations, and he was damned lucky and proud to be that for her.  He never wanted her to know that, this time, he'd failed her so miserably.</p>
<p>He cringed at the thought that nature itself might conspire against them in that regard.  </p>
<p>{"What if . . . "} his uneasy thoughts pushed at him, all the uncomfortable possibilities, until he remembered April received that special injection on a monthly basis, one of the requirements put into place for female agents from the time they first entered the training camp.  </p>
<p>No, whatever complications this might bring, and he was well aware there were any number he had not yet had time to consider, at least there wouldn't be that, a child, or the potential of a child, to confuse things even more.  He was pretty sure April would never have forgiven him for putting her in that position.  </p>
<p>{"Not that I really had all that much control over the matter, not then, any more than she did!  That bloody dress!  That bloody Countess and her bloody dress!"} he swore silently, as he comforted and consoled his partner, before reminding her they still had guests in the ballroom below that they needed to see on their merry way.</p>
<p>"Stiff upper lip, April-luv, big smile on your face now," he encouraged her as they made their way down the stairs.  "Bid them a fair good night, that you were glad they came and hope they had themselves a rousing good time.  Then I'll send the caterers and the musicians on their way, tell them we've decided to postpone cleanup til tomorrow.  After that we can collapse into a quivering heap and whimper softly to ourselves - maybe over a stiff drink or two."</p>
<p>April glanced over at her partner, seeing those unshadowed blue eyes smiling at her reassuringly.  </p>
<p>{"I'll never tell him about the hallucinations.  Well, maybe about part of them, but not all.  Not all.  He'd believe me, of course; I can always count on Mark to believe me even when no one else might.  But I don't want him to picture me like that, not wonder how I could even dream up something so violent, so perverted, not where he is concerned especially."}</p>
<p>There was something in the way he was moving, not as smoothly graceful as usual, that caught her attention, but then he jerked his chin toward the hallway below.  </p>
<p>"Look, there's Illya and Napoleon.  Looks like they finally remembered they were supposed to be enjoying the party down here, not that private one they had going on in the library!  Shall we tease them now, or save it for later?  Maybe the next time we're all four pinned down by the Thrushies?" his eyes clear and shining with suppressed laughter.  (Actually, that glimmer was more one of suppressed pain than laughter, but SHE didn't have to know that.)</p>
<p>April pulled herself into the roll of hostess, one she knew backwards and forwards, one she wouldn't have to actually think about.  </p>
<p>"Oh, let's save that for later, shall we, Darling?  Right now, I'd prefer to see everyone off, then perhaps pour us a nice glass of brandy.  Perhaps two.  Shall we see if Illya and Napoleon want to join us?  We can raid what's left of the buffet table at the same time.  I'm dying to try those appetizers, though I doubt any of the chocolate eclairs are left."</p>
<p>He grinned down at her.  "Sounds like a lovely idea, April.  Let's."</p>
<p>They might talk about this, at least part of this, later; they might not.  They each had their own memories of what had happened, would have a goodly number of nightmares as a result.  And part of those nightmares would be the uncertainty of not really knowing what had been hallucination, what had been reality.  For now, all but the most innocuous of the lot would be shoved deep down inside.  </p>
<p>Frankly, for both of them, that locked storage place was getting uncomfortably crowded, and they shared, unknowingly, the fear that some day that door, that lock, would give way and they'd be left to deal with everything that tumbled out.</p>
<p>But in the meantime, there were guests to speed on their way, two friends to gather up, and a bottle of brandy to be opened and shared, food to be devoured.  That was about all they had energy for anyway.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Epilogues</h2></a>
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    <p>Epilogue 1 - April Dancer:<br/>
When it was all over, the debris swept away and Rovington House once again its usual pristine self, April stood there alone, remembering all that had occurred.  She would have much preferred not to, but she was having a very hard time with that, the images keeping her awake at night, making her start at shadows.  </p><p>One thing she had decided - Mark was right.  Her annual Halloween party had had its run - this had been the last and final one.  It was time to pack it in and shift to something else - perhaps a summer garden party in the expansive gardens behind Rovington House.  Something bright and gay and innocent - something as far from this past Halloween night as she could possibly arrange.</p><p> </p><p>Epilogue 2 - Countess Liliann Moreau:</p><p>Lui looked up and clapped his hands in glee.  "You've come back!  The wand is ready, just as I promised.  AND the crown!  Come, see!  I worked really hard on it!  You will like it, I promise you will!" </p><p>Lilianne chuckled indulgently, nodding kindly to Madame Giselle.  </p><p>"Yes, Lui, I will come and look, but I am sure it is just as you said, a true work of art.  And then, once you have showed me, while you sample the sweet treats I have brought you, there is something I must discuss privately with your aunt.  You will allow me that kindness, yes?" she asked with a teasing smile.</p><p>Lilianne had thought carefully about this.  Yes, it would disrupt her life, at least in the near future.  But the woman was old, truly old, and the seal of her time was already set.  Soon Lui would be left alone, perhaps even before her death, if those in authority sought to intervene.  Perhaps the castle was not the best place - no, truly it was not, not with her sister and her brothers and the old Fang-Master still showing his ugly face on occasion.  Even the servants would not understand, not be as gentle and patient with Lui as he deserved.</p><p>But here, that was different; here Lilianne could control what happened.  There would be lawyers to be involved, of course, but it could be that Lilianne would become a full partner in this business, bringing with her her extensive knowledge of historical costumes, and in the doing, making a place in this human community.  She could be equal guardian to sweet Lui.  </p><p>It would not be forever, probably for less time even than she'd had her sweet son, her Georgi - although far younger than his aunt, Lui was no longer young and, unlike Georgi, was fully human.  Still, for a span of time, less even than one of her longer naps, she could be there for him, treasure him as he should be treasured.  Treasure him as she would have given so much to be allowed to treasure her Georgi.</p><p>And she found the idea of learning this business of costumery to be an amusing one, at the least, and it would be better for Lui not to disrupt his routine.  She remembered how Georgi suffered when such a thing happened.  No, she would perhaps obtain a larger apartment, perhaps buy the entire building, and become a regular part of Lui's life.  That way, when his aunt was no longer there, Lui would already be accustomed to her being there, providing the same comfort and security, the same safe haven as before. There would be no danger of anyone confusing him or threatening his peace any more than life (and death) must do.</p><p>It would not be forever; forever for Lui was far different than forever was for one of her kind.  But for this space of years, they could share their existence.  For this space of years, she could rediscover the sweetness she had experienced only once in her very long lifetime.  For this space of years, she would not hunt, not feed; would live off the essences she had stored in those jewels on her lovely gown.  The time would come all too soon when she had the freedom to do otherwise, all too soon. </p><p>She knew her family would never understand, would place her actions in the same bewildering category as she herself put Cousin Morticia's actions in regard to that Gomez fellow, but now she found that didn't really matter.  She knew Georgi would have understood, would have smiled and clapped his hands in joy at the idea.  That was enough.  </p><p>{"Perhaps this 'true love' comes in various forms.  I have no use for the one sort, but this, this I find oddly appealing.  Yes, I think Georgi would be happy for me, for me and for Lui, and for Madame Giselle also.  There will be time enough for feasting of all sorts later.  Life, for me and my kind, is so very long, after all.  For now, though, just as that shield of 'true love' protects those so afflicted from me, I will in turn be the shield that protects Lui, for as long as he needs me to be."}</p><p>And so, for a span of time, the world could take a deep sigh of relief, for the Countess Liliann had other things to occupy her.  The time would come when that would not be so, but for now, there was one less dangerous threat in the world.  That had to count for something.</p>
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